The Lucky One
by Ciara in cotton socks
Summary: Ron has always seen himself as the odd-one-out among the Weasley siblings, but his wedding day shows him the truth.  He may not be the cool one, or the smart one, but he has something much better... Written for Ninja Potter's Glee Prompt Challenge.


**A/N: Written for Ninja Potter's Glee Prompt Challenge. This is actually my third response to the challenge, the first two being 'Lean on Me' and 'A Journey of Faith', both of which can be found on my profile if anyone is interested...**

**This time my prompt was the song '**_**Lucky**_**', and here is my interpretation. Enjoy!**

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Ron stands in his old bedroom, staring absent-mindedly around. It still looks the same: same threadbare Chudley Cannons bedspread, same stack of _Martin Miggs the Mad Muggle_ comics, same newspaper clippings tacked to the walls. Everything here is the same, but Ron is not. He is standing before his ancient, dusty mirror in dress robes that fit him perfectly and are completely devoid of dodgy lace. Best of all, they aren't maroon.

He glances out the window into the yard below, where preparations are in full swing. He sees his mother rushing this way and that, wringing her hands and screaming at George to stop snogging Angelina and help oversee the raising of the tent. Ron smiles; some things never change. The rest of his brothers are out in the back field, helping, and Ginny is directing the gold-suited band on where to set up. She is wearing a simply-cut bridesmaid's dress in palest powder blue and her long copper hair tumbles down her back in intricately-styled waves. Fleur is deep in conversation with Charlie. Ron can't make out what she is saying, but judging by her repulsed expression and Charlie's panicked one, she is attempting to convince him to wear the blue tie in her hands. Ron suppresses a snort.

He can't believe this is happening to him. Him, of all people. He would never have guessed it. If anybody had told him ten years ago that he would end up marrying Hermione Granger, he would have laughed in their faces, and probably suggested they check into St. Mungo's.

But it is happening, and he's still not entirely sure why. He's always seen himself as something of the odd-one-out in his family. There's not much that he's good at, and even the things he can do well aren't that remarkable, because somebody else has done them before him. Bill is cooler, better looking. Charlie is more adventurous (sure, Ron's run around with Harry playing the hero, but he was terrified most of the time, and he's paralysed when he spots a spider) and much braver. Percy may be a pompous, cowardly ponce at times, but he's smart and successful in ways Ron can only dream of. Sure, people say he's funny, but he's only a pale imitation of Fred and George really. They were the true geniuses, the ones with the real eye for a prank, before... well, before the battle. Before Fred. Ron's been working in the joke shop with George, trying to keep his big brother's spirits up, but he knows he'll never live up to Fred's memory. And now George has Angelina, and Ron doesn't think he's ever seen him this happy since Fred transfigured his teddy into a spider. He's happy for George, he really is, but he misses being his right-hand-man. It was something he thought he could do relatively well. Now he's back to being the odd-one-out. Even his little sister is more interesting than him. Ginny is popular and funny, and she's a better Quidditch player than Ron could ever be.

So could he really be blamed for feeling a bit useless sometimes? Sure, he was a Prefect, but so were Bill and Percy, and they went on to become Head Boy to boot, and Charlie, Fred, George and Ginny were all more exciting Quidditch players than him during their time at Hogwarts. He feels like a bitter disappointment most of the time.

Which is why this whole thing beggars belief. He's the unremarkable one, the one people are most likely to forget about or label the 'sidekick'. And Hermione, she's everything he's not. She is brilliant and beautiful and bright. Sometimes he looks at her and has to stop and wonder at how he's managed to hold onto her this long. He knows she's downstairs in Ginny's bedroom, getting ready just as he is, and the thought sends a shiver down his spine. He can't believe this is happening. In fact, he's half-convinced that at any moment he will wake up nestled in that childish Chudley Cannons duvet with his mum bellowing at him to go out and de-gnome the garden. He is trembling from head to toe, so badly that he's finding it impossible to tie the knot in his powder blue tie. He's considering pulling a Charlie and abandoning it all together, but he thinks Ginny and Fleur might have something to say about that. He grimaces; Fleur was a Triwizard champion after all, and Ginny's got a mean Bat-Bogey Hex up her sleeve.

_Knock knock_.

Ron turns to see Harry Potter poking his head around the door. His best friend is also dressed in smart black dressrobes, but unlike Ron he has his tie knotted neatly and a creamy white lily is pinned into his breast pocket. He grins broadly.

"Ready mate?" he asks. "They're waiting for you downstairs."

Ron can't speak; his words are trapped in his throat and he can only open and close his mouth dumbly like a goldfish. He holds up the tie weakly and shrugs his shoulders. Harry laughs.

"Are you a wizard or not?" he jokes. With a quick twitch of his wand, he charms the tie into forming a perfect knot around Ron's throat. Ron smiles gratefully. "Let's go."

"I- I don't think I can do this Harry," Ron whispers in a strangled voice. "I mean- what if she realises I'm a blinking idiot and scarpers?"

Harry puts one hand on each of Ron's shoulders and grins at him. "I hate to break it you mate, but Hermione's the smartest witch I've ever met. If I could figure out you were a blinking idiot, she definitely has it sussed. And she's still here, isn't she?"

"You're right," says Ron shakily. "Sorry mate, it's just... bloody hell, it's just scary."

"You'll be fine. You love Hermione, don't you?"

Ron nods.

"And anybody can tell she's mad about you, can't they?"

"I- I suppose..."

"Well then, problem solved!" Harry beams, and before Ron can so much as open his mouth to argue the dark-haired man grabs him by the forearms and frog-marches him down the stairs as the ghoul overhead wails. Ron draws to a halt on the first floor landing and turns to face Harry.

"Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

"Just doing my duty as best man," Harry says, but he gives Ron another reassuring pat on the back as they make their way out into the yard. Mrs Weasley has charmed the hens into the chicken coop, but one has escaped her keen eyes and is pecking around in search of a scrap of food. It skitters out of sight as Ron and Harry pass it to enter the tent.

Fifteen minutes later, Ron is standing at the front of the tent, facing the small congregation. Harry is at his elbow, and George pulls faces at him from the front row of golden chairs until Angelina pokes him in the back of the head. Hagrid is sitting next to Madame Maxime, sobbing into a spotted handkerchief the size of a toddler's blanket, and Neville is sitting hand-in-hand with Hannah Abbott, who Ron is surprised to see looks rather attractive when she abandons those ridiculous pigtails.

The gold-suited band strikes up the wedding march and suddenly Ron is pretty sure he knows what a heart attack feels like. He feels dizzy, and he can feel the blood pumping through every vein in his body. People are turning around and craning their necks towards the rear of the tent, and he wonders how they don't hear the erratic drumbeat of his heart as he opens his mouth and tries frantically not to hyperventilate. He can't do this.

His mother and Mrs Granger are sobbing into identical scraps of lace, and even his dad looks suspiciously red-eyed. Ron gasps and tries to hold it together as Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas start wolf-whistling and Luna raises her hand to wave at Ginny, who is beginning her progression up the aisle, preceded by little Victoire and Teddy, who are acting as flower girl and pageboy for the occasion. Next to him, Harry exclaims softly under his breath, but it is all Ron can do to stop himself from collapsing in a heap. He doesn't think he's ever felt this nervous, not even before a Quidditch match or before his Potions O.W.L. The world is a kaleidoscope of colour and it feels like he's floating in some sort of limbo, looking at everything through a distorted mirror like the ones he has seen at those Muggle funfairs...

And then Ginny moves out of the way and he sees her. He sees her, and the floating feeling goes away. Suddenly, she's holding him in her very own gravity and in that way of hers, she makes all his fears disappear. She exudes calm, his elegant, graceful angel as she glides up the aisle in Ginny's wake. Her dress is a simple off-white creation, strapless and imbued with lace and delicate pearls. In her brown hair, more tiny pearls shimmer, and her cheeks are porcelain and roses. Her gaze is focused on the intricate bouquet in her hands, but then she looks up and her warm brown eyes meet his panicked blue ones. She gives him a shy, furtive smile and realisation hits him like a Bludger to the head.

Bill _is_ the cool one, and Charlie's the brave one. Percy's the smart one, Fred and George were the invincible team and now George is carrying on the pranking tradition in honour of his fallen twin. Ginny is the perfect combination of them all, the neat balance of funny and intelligent, athletic and fiery. And Ron had thought he was the odd-one-out, the one without a defined role among the Weasley siblings.

He was wrong though, and he realises this as the woman who he had by turns despised, befriended and fallen in love with glides to his side and slips her small, soft hand into his. He's not the undefined odd-one-out, not with Hermione by his side, wanting him, choosing him, loving _him_.

With her, he's the lucky one.


End file.
